


the yellow brick road

by thelabours



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Magical setting, Shirabu is a little Shitabu, Wizard of Oz References, very monsters such evil queen, when is he ever not though amiryt, you don't have to have read Oz though i've got you fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelabours/pseuds/thelabours
Summary: When he reaches the edge of the forest, he stops to catch his breath. His knees threaten to give out and his lungs are ready to burst. Every breath is painful. Sweat rolls off him in rivers. He may or may not be crying.





	the yellow brick road

Shirabu was tired and hungry and scared. 

His breath came out in rasps and he didn’t think he could run any farther than he already had. He’d lost sight of the ghouls chasing him but he hadn’t wanted to stop to find out if he was going to end up soulless tonight or not.

It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, and yet

and yet

_and yet_

he dared not stop running, not when this was his chance to leave this awful place, where the moon looks like it’s throwing up blood and the trees want him dead.

Well, everything here wants him dead. The land hasn’t seen a human in a long time, not since the Era of Heroes came to a close, a thousand years ago. The Fair Folk ( _how_ , Shirabu thinks, _are ghouls and demons the Fair Folk?_ ) do not look kindly upon lost humans. 

_Trust no Human. The motto of the Fair Folk._

He glues his eyes to the yellow brick road and runs.

When he reaches the edge of the forest, he stops to catch his breath. His knees threaten to give out and his lungs are ready to burst. Every breath is painful. Sweat rolls off him in rivers. He may or may not be crying.

He is afraid. Terrified, even. Every time he shuts his eyes, he can see ghouls and wraiths and all sorts of monstrosities, some faceless, and some with faces so terrifying, he wishes they were faceless. Red, glowing eyes; fanged, cruel smiles, they seemed to follow him in search for fresh blood to be spilt.

He wants to cry, he really does. Only this morning (although, to him, it seems like a month ago, time passes differently in this realm) he’d had a dreadful argument with Semi. He’d walked out on him, saying some hurtful things he knew he shouldn't’ve said and can’t ever take back. He’d walked and walked and walked until he’d managed to walk right into a poppy garden. He’d fallen asleep, naturally, except he’d been caught by the queen, a skeletal figure with malicious eyes and smile sharp enough to cut through his skin and bones and heart.

He’d begged and pleaded and struggled to be set free. A coward through and through.

Panic had set in, as the blood moon rose, and Shirabu had spent the night trembling in fear and feeling sorry for himself. After a few days in the tiny dungeon, he’d sorely acknowledged Semi’s absence. A few weeks later, when Shirabu was on the cusp of madness in the dark and tiny room, a tall man with dark red hair and dark red eyes had appeared.

_The queen’s adviser._

A monster in name, but not in heart. He had come to this realm with his partner, a human, but had been caught, like Shirabu himself had. His partner had been killed in exchange for the adviser’s life (it had taken an argument and a pair of cruel eyes watching it), and though he doesn’t voice it, Shirabu knows the adviser regrets it dearly, his eyes betray it.

_“Wakatoshi, why don’t you understand? Let’s just stay here! She’ll kill us if we run!”_

_“I’ll protect you. We can’t stay here any longer, she knows about your magic. She’ll take advantage of it, and I wouldn’t be able to stand it if…if anything happened to you.”_

_“What? So you think I’m that weak? I don’t need you.”_

The adviser had handed him a pair of shoes, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. They were, perhaps a little worse for the wear, if anything. The adviser tells him to run, run as fast as he can, as far as he can, beyond the misty hills and the snow forest, to the clearing just beyond the horizon. 

_“Wear these shoes and click your heels thrice. Think of home, think of those you love. The shoes will take care of the rest.”_

__

__

Shirabu couldn’t resist asking.

“But…what about you? Haven’t you wanted to escape?”

The adviser’s red eyes seem to flicker and change to a less menacing, almost soft look.

“I have nothing to call home anymore.”

And that had been that.

He'd taken the shoes and run, while the alarm bells had rung in discordance atop the highest tower and ghouls had been set on his trail. Shirabu hated ghouls, nasty and slimy creatures with sharp, sharp teeth, they put him on edge.

Shirabu feels marginally better and steps cautiously into the clearing. The yellow brick road ends here. He knows better than to touch a tree, even for support. These trees grew on blood and the sinister white leaves serrated in thirst for more, and he didn’t want to be their victim today. Or _ever_.

He slips the shoes on, faded red leather, perhaps a fashion trend among the Fair Folk once upon a time, but of no use now. A ghost of a smile graces Shirabu’s pale face. It reminds him of a fairy tale of some sort. He shuts his eyes to concentrate.

He clicks his heels once.

_A faint figure, tall and strong, approached him. Void of colour, and yet Shirabu can tell who it is immediately. He calls out to it._

He clicks his heels twice.

_A faint smell (sweat and oranges and green tea) and a familiar touch (lips over his own, and hands curled in his hair). He calls out again, tasting desperation and redemption._

He clicks his heels thrice.

_He knows he’s home._

When Shirabu wakes up in his own bed at home, the first thing he sees is Semi, fast asleep on a chair next to the bed. He almost sobs in relief. Semi, as if sensing this, stirs and cracks an eye open to see Shirabu almost sobbing and smearing his snot all over the sheets.

After food (“Oranges, please,” Shirabu asks), and a flurry of red-faced apologies (by both parties), Shirabu finds himself lying down with his head on Semi’s lap. He decides to tell Semi about his adventures.

Semi listens closely, brows scrunching and eventually smoothing out, a blossom of a smile appearing on his face (as rare as flying fish, Shirabu says).

“That sounds like the plot of the book I’ve been reading for the last week,” Semi says, getting up to search for the book on the shelf.

“Look, it even has the adviser on the cover.”

And indeed, there was the adviser, smiling up at Shirabu as he held the book in his hands.

“When you’re feeling less fanciful, come help me out with dinner,” Semi laughs, and makes his way to the kitchen.

Shirabu gets up to follow him, but ends up yelling and dropping the book.

He could’ve sworn the adviser had winked at him.


End file.
